


Simply Is

by illfit



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illfit/pseuds/illfit
Summary: It was a... surprise, to say the least.





	

**Author's Note:**

> my specialty is coming back to ao3 after an extended absence and writing an elaborate, indulgence-based fic full of smut within a 24-hour period of christmas celebrations. it's a bit rocky and completely just bad smut with some hurt/comfort elements.
> 
> it's also edited within a 15 minute session so that this could be a true Christmas Fic and be posted before 23:59 on christmas day (my time). most major errors will be fixed. eventually.
> 
>  
> 
> enjoy :)

The faux-mistletoe Shiro gets is less green and pretty and more yellow and dying, but it still serves it’s purpose. Pidge had presented it when Hunk announced that, through secret means, he was able to figure out the date on Earth and that they had missed Christmas by two days and the Galaxy Garrison’s graduation date by seven. Technically, aside from Keith and Shiro, all the Paladins had finished their six-year contract with the Garrison and were now considered full-range pilots.

Allura and Coran, with the help of Lance, gathered what the Castle had in the way of gifts while Hunk and Shiro made - or, more accurately, _attempted_ to make - edible graduation pins from hardened space goo. Keith and Pidge set up what they could find in the way of decorations.

Everyone got a handmade present from what Allura could find and Coran put tohether. Any other gifts, such as the Altean joke book (yes, they had those on Altea, too) Lance received, were foraged from empty Castle rooms. Coran officially graduated the Paladins with Shiro’s help.

It was a good night, and for the first time since they left Earth, the Paladins were truly happy. The space goo had a too-salty taste and most of the handmade gifts were already falling apart an hour later, but they were all there. They were all happy and warm and safe.

And when they retreat to their private quarters after the sun sets on the smoggy planet they’ve landed on, no one fears for what the morning will bring. They’re in the _here_ and _now,_ sharing the first moment in a while where Zarkon didn’t actually matter.

In fact, Zarkon is the last thing Keith is thinking of when Shiro knocks on his door an hour later, yellow and dying faux-mistletoe hanging from his fingers, directly above the doorway.

“Oh no,” Keith gasps when he looks at it, all fake apprehension and sarcasm. Shiro rolls his eyes and places the plant on Keith’s head, who swats at his hand and more tangles the alien berries in his hair than actually removes it.

“Oh no,” Shiro mocks playfully, but actually leans down and presses a chaste kiss to Keith’s frown.

“Just get in here, you big sap.” Keith grumbles, pulling Shiro into his room by the fabric of his night shirt. Shiro happily goes, and makes quick work of turning them around and pressing Keith up against the door, peppering kisses to his cheeks and lips that quickly become slow and deep. A hand comes up to cup Keith’s cheek, thumb smoothing over the jut of his cheekbone. Keith’s own hands come to rest on Shiro’s hips, which sway slightly at the touch.

An especially deep kiss leads to Shiro’s hand moving to thread in his hair, but accidentally clamps down on the faux-mistletoe, and Keith can feel what seems to be pine needles scatter in his hair. “You’re cleaning that up,” Keith whispers in the space between them, to which Shiro smiles and pulls back, much to the other’s dismay.

“Let’s go shower, then.”

Keith restrains himself from grinning too much, but he can’t help the approving noise that escapes, nor the slight spring in his step on the way to the restroom attached to his suite. They help each other strip: Keith slides his hands up the plane of Shiro’s chest, pushing his shirt up and off his head when he lifts his arms. In turn, Shiro’s hands slip in the back of Keith’s sweats, squeezing a handful of Keith's ass before pushing the article off. When they finally make it to the shower, still groping each other, Keith groans under the warm spray, nearly going lax in Shiro’s arms. He wonders when the last time he showered was, but after counting a week he gives up trying in favor of reaching up to pluck the remaining sticks from his hair.

“Allow me,” Shiro interrupts, swatting Keith’s hands away, who huffs and grabs the bottle of Altean soap, working some against Shiro’s chest and shoulders.

They work in companionable silence, Shiro working on Keith’s hair and Keith rubbing over Shiro’s torso, adding more soap when needed and always warming it between his hands before using it. Brief kisses are shared throughout, and Keith makes a point to kiss every scar he runs across. It's a level of domestic that Keith would shy away from had it not been Shiro.

When he reaches the junction of where prosthetic and flesh meet, Shiro tenses, halting in his motions. Keith keeps going, rubbing minuscule amounts of soap across the metal where it’s dirty. Shiro doesn’t pull away, but he doesn't exactly _accept_ Keith's motions, and the air between them chills slightly, despite the copious amounts of steam from the water spray.

“Why doesn’t it bother you?” Shiro asks, letting go of Keith’s hair so the fingers can be washed. Keith’s fingers leave feather-light touches to the metal that make a shiver run up Shiro’s spine.

“Why should it?”

Shiro snorts. “Well-”

“I’m serious.” And as if to prove his point, Keith links their fingers together.

“I could quite literally slice you in two.” The Galran arm warms and takes on a finite purple hue. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

Keith regards the arm with an expression that most coincides with disinterest. “Not really, no.” And Shiro doesn’t know exactly how to respond to that, so he simply doesn’t. He sighs, deactivating his arm and squeezing Keith’s hand, and then fishes out the final two sticks, and then lathers Keith’s hair.

The rest of the shower is spent in a less companionable silence, but neither of them leave, which both take as a victory.

 

When they return to Shiro’s bed, clad only in towels, it’s in a mess of tangled limbs with a scent similar to aspen trees, but more citrous. Keith is almost gasping against Shiro’s lips with the deepness of their kisses. He’s half-hard and can feels Shiro against his hip as well, but Shiro seems more interested in leaving Ketih a breathless mess than actually getting either of them off.

“Why did we shower first?” Keith wonders aloud, searching for friction against Shiro’s thigh.

It takes a moment before Shiro can reply. When he does, it’s into the dip of Keith’s collar bone because he thinks if they kiss any more, he won’t be able to speak because his lips will be absolutely _numb_. “Because you-” His breath hitches when a particular thrust bumps their cocks together. “You-” Keith thrusts again, and a third time when Shiro makes yet another attempt.

“You are insufferable,” Shiro tugs sharply at the other’s hair.

Keith covers his moan with a breathless laugh. “I could say the same thing, you know.”

“But you love it.” And Keith does. He loves Shiro’s stubbornness and pushiness and even his saintly behavior. He loves all of it, and he hopes when they kiss, Shiro can feel it.

And by the way Shiro kisses back, he _can_.

Eventually, the towels are lost amongst the crumpled sheets and Keith is on top of Shiro, who is groaning at the lack of friction he is allowed. At some point, a nearly empty bottle of oil had been rummaged from somewhere in the bedside table, which Keith has slowly warmed between his hands.

Shiro feels himself grow impossibly harder as he watches Keith reach behind himself, and the sharp, open-mouthed inhale has him attempting to buck up. When Keith starts grinding into empty space, Shiro fists his hands into the sheets and bites back a groan.

“This is not fair.” Shiro accuses. The scent of woodsy Altean soap is slowly being replaced by sweat and sex and _Keith_. So much _Keith_.

Keith cracks open his eyes and regards him with a look similar to what a king would give a lowly peasant after granting a wish. “No one said you couldn’t touch.” He squeezes Shiro’s shoulder, then trails his fingers along the warm metal of Shiro’s forearm. Keith feels the apprehension in every muscle twitch Shiro gives. When his Galran fingers reach Keith’s ass, brushing against oiled ones, Shiro withdraws his hand, attempting to instead use his flesh one, to which Keith grunts his disapproval.

“It’s my way or no way.” Keith smirks, which breaks quickly when his fingers brush against a spot that has precome oozing from the head of his dick to Shiro’s stomach.

“I won’t-”

“Then you can’t.” Keith squeezes Shiro’s bicep, just below the line of metal and flesh.

“Keith.” Shiro tries to pin him with his gaze, but Keith’s eyes are sharper than his own, and he finds himself being the one pinned.

“There’s time for talking later. I’m ready.” Shiro feels the disappointment of not being able to help prepare Keith, but it’s ultimately dwarfed by his throbbing erection as Keith starts lowering himself down. The sight Keith makes is enough to make Shiro almost come on sight. Keith’s hair is still wet from the shower, but whatever parts have dried are sticking up in random directions. His hands are planted on Shiro’s chest in a half-heated attempt to ground himself, warmth radiating from them, muscles quivering and mouth slightly agape, stuttered gasps coming from it.

Keith barely stops to breathe when he’s seated on Shiro’s hips. Shiro misses the heat the moment Keith is lifting up, and he wishes that he were able to force Keith to stay there a moment, let them both bask in the warmth and pleasure. Keith feels the hands that grip his hips and still ignores them, slowly lifting himself up and down in an unspoken challenge. _You’ll have to try harder than that._

Shiro does. He surges up, one hand resting on Keith’s hip and the other laying over Keith’s hands on his chest. The slight change in angle has Keith moaning, thighs clenching together around Shiro’s lap.

“Oh, _fuck_.” Keith chokes out a breath, hands moving to lock in Shiro’s hair. Shiro thrusts up into Keith’s heat, arousal blazing hot in his ears. Arms come to circle Keith’s waist as Shiro starts a rhythm the best he can with the pathetic leverage he has. Keith huffs a laugh, kissing along Shiro’s neck and ear, sucking on the skin behind the lobe. The shock of a hand reaching around to touch where they meet is only a mild surprise - one of which Keith swats at like he would a pesky bug.

“My way or no way,” He repeats into Shiro’s ear. A sharp, loud moan cuts off Keith’s train of thought as lukewarm metal is _there_ , fingers grazing along the ring of muscle. There’s a small among of tug every time Keith is grinding down.

“Do you mind?” Shiro asks, flesh hand squeezing a thigh. Keith opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by another moan that forces its way out. Instead, he shakes his head abortively.

Keith throws his head back at the feeling of Shiro’s Galran finger slipping in alongside his cock. The stretch burns slightly and it takes a few thrusts before Shiro has the rhythm down, but it’s all downhill after that. Keith moans nearly every other thrust now, fingers digging crescents and scratching lines down Shiro’s back and scalp as he’s lost to the world. He can’t help but focus on chasing his orgasm as white pulses of pleasure flood his body.

“Shiro, _god_... _Shiro_.” Keith pants beside Shiro’s ear, hot breath fawning over his bare shoulder and sending chills down his lover’s back. In turn, Shiro mutters small words of praise against Keith’s collarbone, who could probably make them out if it weren’t for the way that a second finger is catching on his rim and - _oh_ , Shiro’s pushing it in deliberately slow, until Keith’s lips are bleeding from trying not to be loud.

Shiro nibbles along the muscle that connects Keith’s neck and shoulder, sucking harshly and leaving a dark red spot that Shiro can’t help but smile about.

“Let it out,” Shiro whispers, the miniscule space between them warming with the words. “No one but me will hear you.” Shiro’s free hand reaches between them to stroke at Keith’s neglected cock, where there’s enough precome to connect both their stomachs together.

Keith _whines,_ muscles aching from trying to keep control of himself throughout the assault of his nerves. He can feel Shiro’s smile against the jut of his collarbone. Another upwards stroke of his cock has Keith dropping his head to the crook of Shiro’s neck, biting at the muscle there as he tries to keep his orgasm at bay. It’s hard when Shiro starts nibbling again, and when he sucks another mark on the knob of his shoulder, Keith loses it, fingernails digging hard enough into Shiro’s back to draw blood.  
He comes with his lover’s name choked in his throat, body seizing up - especially around Shiro’s cock, who comes as well, tears forming at the corner of his eyes with the force of it.

They sit there for a long while, until Shiro’s back starts to ache and Keith’s ass begins to leak despite being completely blocked. It’s Keith who actually gets up (with a groan because Takashi Shirogane is not exactly small and he isn’t exactly the least sensitive person) and grabs a damp rag to clean themselves off with.

“You’re going to make me ruin my sheets.” Keith mumbles when he lays back down, welcoming Shiro’s warm embrace.

“You never grabbed a condom.” Shiro points out, the backs of his fingers tracing Keith’s jawline.

“You know exactly where they are.”

“But they're not my sheets.” Keith wrinkles his nose, not particularly wanting to think about cleaning up tomorrow morning. He nestles in close to Shiro instead, throwing and arm around his waist and hugging him close.

“Shiro,” Keith starts, but seems to reconsider his words.

“Yeah?”

“About your arm...”

“Keith, I don’t want to think about this any more than you want to think about your sheets.”

“You’ll have to eventually.” Keith brushes the forelock from his face.

“That time hasn’t come yet.” They both know Shiro is stalling the inevitable reality, but Keith seems to be the only one to know how much it hurts in the long run.

“It-” Keith purses his lips in thought; then, carefully, “You know I will be here when that time does come?”

“Yes, Keith.” Shiro nuzzles the tips of their noses together. As an afterthought, “Will you go turn the lights off?” Keith nods and slowly extracts himself from the bed and mess of tangled limbs. He secretly savors the ache of his ass as he makes the short way to the switch, and when he comes back, Shiro is half-asleep. With a fond smile, Keith lifts the covers and places himself back into Shiro’s warm grasp.

He rubs a few circles into the meeting places of Shiro’s metal arm and shoulder, a final _it’s okay_ before he snuggles into Shiro’s chest with a sigh.

 

The nightmares leave before Keith even knows they’re there, a sense of _wrong_ hanging in a shroud of his sleep-drowned mind. His heart slows from a race to a sprint and he blinks blearily in the dark, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. It takes a while for him to gather himself, but when he feels the familiar and comfortable warmth of his own bed and room, he sighs and settles into the pillow. A sour feeling of _empty_ still sits beside him, but he can’t seem to shake it.

A few minutes later, there’s the distinct sound of the bathroom door shutting and the soft pad of bare feet against the wood of Keith’s room.

Shiro slips in beside Keith, a strong arm wrapping low around his waist. The sour feeling leaves, replaced by Shiro.

“Nigh’mares?” Shiro sleep-slurs, arm tightening at the feel of Keith’s heartbeat. Keith hums his yes, and Shiro pecks his forehead. “Sorry, had’ta pee. I’ve gotcha now.”

Keith laughs despite himself, a soft giggle as he pulls the blanket up higher over them and whispers, “Thank you. I’m sure my nightmares will flee at the knowledge that my pissing boyfriend will protect me.”

“Shuddup.” Keith’s heart slows to an almost-normal pace, marred only by the skip from knowing that Shiro is _here,_  still loving him.

“Takashi Shirogane, I love you with a burning passion.” Keith murmurs. It’s corny as fuck and they both know it (especially at this early hour), but it’s worth the contented exhale Shiro lets out and the kiss that’s pressed to the column of his throat.

“Keith Kogane, I love you so much I’d fight your nightmares while I pee - If I had to.” Keith starts laughing again, an unmanly giggle that he’ll probably regret when looking back.

“I appreciate it.” He whispers, feeling the slight shaking of Shiro’s shoulders in a silent, sleepy chuckle.

**Author's Note:**

> most major errors have been fixed. within a reasonable timespan nevertheless.


End file.
